


The Softest Kisses

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Series: Tumblr Prompt Requests [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based on a Tumblr Post, First Dates, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4958272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles always imagined what it would be like to be kissed by Derek. He never knew it could be so gentle—so soft.</p><p>Prompt: “Heeeey! Jill could you give me a birthday gift? It's on oct 7. Please post a sweet fluffy sterek fic for me? Don't get me wrong, I love all of ur angsty fic but I think you should stop make me (and all of ur fans) cry for a lil bit and give sterek a happy life once in a while? I wouldn't mind about the scene you choose. You can make it from one of the prompt or whatever. Just please make one sweet sweet love happy sterek? my name is Dede by the way. And I'm glad I found u in this fandom :)”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Softest Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr to fill a prompt request ([x](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/post/130710525942/heeeey-jill-could-you-give-me-a-birthday-gift))
> 
> Hey, Dede! I hope your timezone is the same as mine. In case it’s not, it’s October 07th here, which means: *fanfare and confetti* HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
> 
> As requested, here are two lovely dorks in love experiencing their first date in canon. I am so glad you found me in the fandom as well! I love meeting new people, especially fellow fans who want to save me from my garbage can of Sterek angst feels. I am the Queen of the Angst Garbage Dumpster, and I appreciate being pulled into the fluff one every now and again. I hope this is what you were looking for, (it’s a scene I’ve wanted to write for some time, and I smacked my hand every time I tried to type in angst) and that you have an AMAZING birthday <3

Derek sat in the Camaro, his fingers wrapping around the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white from the tension as his eyes remained glued to the front door of the house. He never been this nervous before in his life.

It all started when he came back to Beacon Hills. Derek had told himself that he would never come back to Beacon Hills until he was ready to wander past that town line without any baggage weighing him down. That was until his phone rang, an unfamiliar phone number flashing across the screen. There was a feeling in the back of Derek’s brain that told him to pick up the phone.

“Derek Hale,” Derek had answered, waiting to hear some cheap attempt to scam him or a wrong number. He didn’t expect to hear Stiles’ voice.

“Derek?” Stiles weakly asked, sounding as if he was hanging on to only one last string of hope.

“Stiles?” Derek questioned, his heart hammering against his chest as he listened to the way the teen was heavily breathing on the other line.

“Hey,” Stiles released a weak, hollow laugh. “I’m sorry, Braeden gave me this number in case of emergency.”

“What happened?” Derek quickly asked.

Stiles couldn’t stop himself from telling Derek everything. He told him about Theo manipulating the pack; about Donovan trying to kill him; about his dad laying in a hospital bed in the ICU not even twenty feet from him.

“It’s so messed up, Derek,” Stiles finally stated. “It’s so broken. Scott doesn’t … He doesn’t believe me,” he hurtfully admitted.

Derek thought about the situation, knowing that Scott must have been torn to not believe Stiles. Scott must have been thinking he was doing what was best for the pack by alienating Stiles. Maybe Scott even thought that he was protecting Stiles from himself. Derek decided to say the only think he knew for certain.

“I believe you.”

There was a strange silence that followed, and part of Derek worried that he lost the call, or that Stiles hung up, thinking that Derek was mocking him.

“I—I miss you, Sourwolf,” Stiles finally confessed, a familiar fondness changing his tone as he spoke.

“I miss you too,” Derek echoed, his voice weak but certain. He felt his chest tighten when Stiles started to cry.

“You never would have let this happen,” Stiles hiccupped through his tears. “You would have done something—would have been able to beat Theo.”

“In what universe would I have actually been able to beat someone?” Derek jested, glad that Stiles released a watery laugh.

“You would have challenged Scott—gotten him to see it before it happened,” Stiles added, sniffling as he wiped away the tears from his eyes.

“Scott cares about you,” Derek stated. “He’s probably just as broken up about this as you are.”

“Yeah,” Stiles almost sighed. “I just wish … I wish everything ended with Peter.”

“Yeah,” Derek echoed. He heard someone say something to Stiles, assuming it was a nurse or doctor.

“I have to go,” Stiles reluctantly explained. “An update on dad.”

“Sure,” Derek stated, almost turning in a circle as he thought of what to say. “Keep me posted?”

“Yeah, I will,” Stiles answered. “And Derek? Thank you.”

“Hang in there,” Derek stated. He still held the phone to his ear even after Stiles hung up.

That was how Derek ended up in Europe, collecting Jackson and Isaac, keeping in contact with Stiles via text. He was happy to hear that the pack, though fractured, was doing well thanks to Braeden’s help. He wasn’t surprised to find Isaac helping Argent, almost happy to be with the hunter if it gave him a break from Jackson.

Derek didn’t tell Stiles his plan, not letting him know that he was bringing the others back to Beacon Hills to put an end to Theo and his makeshift pack. In the aftermath of the battle, Derek had to suppress a laugh at Jackson’s banter with Scott and Isaac as Argent merely shook his head. Derek didn’t, however, plan on Stiles jumping into his arms, wrapping his long limbs around his body as he hid his face in Derek’s shoulder.

“You came back,” was all Stiles uttered, thankful that Derek’s arms were wrapped around him as they both ignored the lingering quizzical looks of the others.

After that, the pack mended itself back together, Isaac and Jackson finding a way to become part of the pack once more. Isaac clung to Scott, but still drifted towards Derek, a need to be close to the one who sired him. Derek noticed that Stiles started to drift towards him as well, despite having made up with Scott.

Stiles started to spend time in Derek’s new loft, the old one holding too many negative memories for any of the pack to argue that staying there was ideal. He would spend his times researching, books covering the table as he tapped his leg up and down. He often passed out at the table, sometimes on the couch, ultimately staying for dinner. His clothes started to pile up, some sweatshirts shoved in between the couch cushions, spare clothes being kept in a part of Derek’s dresser drawer, (something Derek didn’t even really notice until he was putting away laundry one day).

They were both relaxing on the couch one afternoon, eating take out from the boxes as they watched _Supernatural_. Derek had been reluctant, telling Stiles that it was a gross misrepresentation, and Stiles argued that it was an opportunity for them to laugh at the inaccuracies.

Derek was relaxed against the back of the couch, hands folded across his stomach as he waited for Stiles to get back from his bathroom break. He stared at the detail on the screen, Stiles having paused it on a screen shot of Jared Padalecki shirtless, with a towel precariously wrapped around his hips.

Stiles released a snort in the back of his throat when he saw the television, plopping down next to Derek. He was closer to Derek than previously, his arm lightly touching Derek’s. He gestured towards the screen. “It’s ridiculous how into eye candy this show got,” he commented.

“At least they’re using the excuse of showing them having normal hygiene practices,” Derek commented.

“Wouldn’t you get dressed in the bathroom if you thought your brother was coming back? Or risking a random ass angel popping up.”

“I’m naked after transforming and it doesn’t seem to bother most people,” Derek stated.

“Yeah, but that’s you,” Stiles commented. “At least you and Jared Padalecki have that in common: you both can get away with being gloriously naked.” He looked up at Derek, his eyes scanning Derek’s features. His eyes locked with Derek’s, his heart pounding loudly as he opened his mouth to fix what he just uttered. He flailed when his phone loudly rang, interrupting the moment. He offered a soft ‘sorry’ as he answered his phone, standing to pace as he talked to the caller—the Sheriff asking him if he could head home.

Derek walked him to the door, both of them hesitating in parting. He leaned against the doorframe, carefully watching Stiles.

Stiles turned his body towards Derek, rubbing his hand on the back of his head. He dug the point of his shoe into the ground, waiting for Derek to say something. “I, uh, I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he started. “For some time, actually.”

Derek nodded in response, a soft hopeful smile pulling at his lips.

“Did you … did you want to, I don’t know … hang out?” Stiles’ eyes dropped to the ground, a small blush creeping across his skin.

“Hang out?” Derek asked, slightly pushing to see if Stiles meant what he thought he meant.

“You, me,” Stiles answered. “A date,” he mumbled in addition.

Derek took Stiles’ hands into his own when Stiles’ heart rate spiked and his scent changed into soured embarrassment. He gently smiled, ducking his chin as he tried to hide his joy. He quickly leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles’ cheek. He suppressed his desire to wickedly smile when Stiles’ face flushed and his skin turned beet red.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night?” Derek inquired, his thumbs massaging gentle circles into Stiles’ knuckles.

“Okay,” Stiles breathlessly answered, joyfully smiling. “Okay, yeah. Great,” he continued to smile like a goof as he started to back out the door. He almost tripped over his feet, stumbling some before looking back at Derek, offering a small wave.

Derek had been panicking ever since Stiles left the loft. He remembered that Stiles liked blue, rummaging through his drawers to find his blue sweater, knowing that it made him look ‘approachable,’ if Isaac’s fashion sense could be trusted. He trimmed his beard, making sure it was maintained as he recalled Stiles saying that he liked his beard more than his clean-shaven look. He remembered how both Kate and Jennifer had always dug their nails in his beard, never anything close to the way Stiles traced his fingers in it. (Stiles had a heart attack that night when he realized that Derek was awake in the back of the Cruiser as he softly stroked his jawline in reassurance that they would reach Deaton’s in time). Derek shook his head, pushing all thoughts of those two women out of his mind as he focused on Stiles.

Derek had finally mustered the courage to go up to the Stilinski’s door after a few minutes, his knuckles softly rapping against the wood. He took a step back, hands placed gently in his pockets as he waited for someone to answer. He wasn’t surprised when it was the Sheriff that answered the door. He was grateful for the smile gracing the older man’s lips, a fond twinkle in his eyes as he stepped back to allow Derek in.

“Evening, Derek,” the Sheriff greeted him as he passed.

“Good evening, sir,” Derek replied, a small feeling of fondness growing in his stomach when he realized that the Sheriff was about to embark on the typical ‘please be responsible with my only child’ speech.

“It is a good evening,” the Sheriff answered. He walked over to the stairs, still a faint hitch in his step from the wounds he sustained from Theo. And Derek knew that if he saw the hitch, Stiles definitely was aware of it. “Stiles, get your butt down here! Derek’s here.”

“Coming!” Stiles’ panicked voice yelled as he crashed around his room.

The Sheriff shook his head, a fond smile on his lips. “He’s like his mother—takes forever to get ready. I think he’s tried on every shirt he owns.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine in whatever he decides. I have seen him at his worst,” Derek commented.

“And he’s seen you at yours,” the Sheriff replied. He sighed as he moved to sit on the couch, looking up at Derek as he absentmindedly rubbed his leg to soothe the muscle. “I don’t want to be the stereotypical cliché father and threaten you,” he started.

“I’d never hurt him,” Derek stated, hoping it eased the Sheriff’s concerns.

“I know,” the Sheriff answered. “But you don’t have that person to threaten Stiles,” he commented. “He’s going to mess up, that’s just the type of kid he is. All I ask is that you give him extra chances—chances to prove himself.”

Derek silently nodded, pausing as he planned what to say in response. “The fact that I am here right now means that I’m more than willing to stick it out. I haven’t … I haven’t had the best track record when it comes to dating,” he explained, shifting his weight as he thought of Kate and Jennifer. Braeden didn’t end in disaster, so he considered that to be a win. “But I know Stiles, and I know he’d never intentionally hurt me. And I’d never intentionally hurt him. We’re going to mess up, and probably fight more often than some people, but … but I’d rather fight with him than anyone else.”

The Sheriff smiled, nodding his head in approval. “Sounds like you’ve thought this out for a while.”

“It just took a long time to get here,” Derek explained.

“I’m ready!” Stiles shouted as he practically skipped down the steps. He froze on the last few steps when he saw Derek standing by his father. His eyes moved across Derek, taking in his dark jeans and soft blue sweater with _thumbholes_ peeking out from under his leather jacket—looking absolutely breathtaking. His mouth was dry, as he didn’t even bother to think about how his scent must have changed when the faint blush darkened beneath Derek’s beard. _He’s so goddamn hot but secretly adorable, ugh!_

“You kids have fun,” the Sheriff stated, gaining their attention.

Stiles suppressed his noise of agreement as he nodded towards the door. “Be back later,” he offered, uncertain how long their date would be.

“Take your time,” the Sheriff answered as he watched them exit.

“I’m sorry if my dad threatened you,” Stiles stated once they were out by the Camaro, slipping inside the car as he closely inspected the interior. He smiled to himself as he snuggled his back into the leather of the seat, having missed the Camaro for the past few years.

“He didn’t,” Derek explained as he climbed in the driver’s seat. He let the keys dangle in his hand as his eyes wandered towards Stiles. He let his eyes fall over him, taking in his appearance for the first time—too aware of the Sheriff’s presence when they were in the house to attempt looking.

Stiles was dressed in his one pair of faded jeans Lydia had forced him to buy one month, and Derek could tell why she made him get them—he looked good. He looked more mature when he wasn’t drowning his body in t-shirts and plaid shirts. The span of his shoulders was accented by the pull of his green Henley, and Derek was certain he must have missed Stiles’ growth spurt. Stiles’ body had filled out in Derek’s absence, his face no longer resembling the soft curves of young teenager Derek first met in the preserve.

Derek didn’t remember just how transfixed he could become when mapping out Stiles’ moles, his eyes connecting the dots as they drew different shapes in his skin, his fingers itching to trace those connections.

Derek noticed that Stiles hadn’t spoke in response, looking up to catch Stiles staring at him, his eyes asking Derek if something was wrong—a small panic evident as his heartbeat escalated, no doubt dreading that Derek changed his mind. But Derek couldn’t answer him as he just held his gaze, observing Stiles’ eyes.

If he was being honest, Derek would say that Stiles’ eyes were still too big for his face. And if he was being even more honest, he would admit that it was something that made Stiles that much more attractive to him. His eyes were wide and still filled with the remnants of hope from the childish innocence he once had—before Theo; before the Nogitsune; before the Alpha pack … before Derek. His eyes were soft and welcoming—inviting of Derek’s every move as they practically begged him to break the silence.

Derek softly smiled when he caught the glimpse of a tag hanging out the collar of Stiles’ Henley. “You have …” he gestured towards the back of Stiles’ neck.

And Stiles being Stiles, was unable to adequately assemble what Derek meant. He wildly reached for his neck, padding down his shirt in the process. “Have what?” He quickly asked, his embarrassment escalating.

“Here,” Derek offered, leaning forward to grab the tag. He pulled it forward some, enough for Stiles to realize that it was the tag.

“Oh my God,” Stiles furiously muttered, yanking the tag from Derek’s hand as he broke it from its place attached to his shirt’s collar. “Now that I’m embarrassed—”

“Don’t be,” Derek stated with a small smile. “I’m flattered that you went and bought a shirt.”

Stiles snuck a glance at Derek before admitting, “Shirt _s_ ,” with an emphasis on the last ‘s.’

Derek started the car, pulling out of the driveway, unable to stop his smile. “If it makes you feel better, I wore blue because you said it was ‘pretty,’” he admitted, knowing that Stiles felt better just from knowing that.

“You wore blue just for me?” Stiles asked with a smile.

“I got the Camaro out of storage because you missed it,” Derek added.

“I did miss this baby,” Stiles stated, running his hands over the seat’s leather.

“Am I going to have to compete with my own car for your affections?” Derek questioned.

“Aw, babe, don’t be jealous,” Stiles teased, and Derek decided that he liked the sound of Stiles calling him ‘babe.’ “She’s cold and calculating, and you’re a soft teddy bear.”

“I’m not a teddy bear,” Derek stated, putting on a fake scowl.

“Are you play scowling?” Stiles asked in excitement. “I need to tell Cora that you’re fake scowling for the sake of a joke.” He announced as he pulled out his phone, sending a quick text.

A small ping and Stiles’ laughter told Derek that Cora’s response must have been _delightful_.

“She says you may not be a teddy bear, but you’re still a bear for dating a twink,” Stiles snickered.

Derek snorted in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes as he pictured Cora’s face twisting into a grimace at actually picturing them dating.

~*~

Stiles actually squawked when he realized that Derek brought them to the drive-ins, wanting to come for the past few weeks but never actually getting the pack together to go. The drive-in was showing a marathon of old classic B horror movies, spiking Stiles’ interest the minute he read about it online. He wanted to kiss Derek, but held himself back when he realized that they were just starting out and surprise kisses may not be welcomed.

Derek left the windows down, a small attempt to keep his own body heat from fogging up the windshield. It was about an hour into the film when he noticed the small shivers running through Stiles’ body.

“You’re cold,” Derek plainly stated.

Stiles looked at Derek in surprise. “A little. It’s not bad,” he smiled in reassurance.

“You’re crossing your arms over your chest to keep warm,” Derek frowned.

Stiles sat up some. “Puny little human,” he stated. “It comes with the territory. Trust me, I wish I was a nice little furnace like you at times.” _Or to be cuddled up on said nice little furnace of a werewolf._

Derek didn’t respond, shrugging out of his jacket as he leaned forward. He held his jacket out, slightly amused at the way Stiles’ eyes widened.

“Seriously?” Stiles asked with a twinge of unbelievable joy bubbling up at the opportunity.

“I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t,” Derek explained, thankful Stiles took the jacket without further discussion. He watched as Stiles slipped his arms into the sleeves, wrapping it around his frame.

“I think I’m going to have you wear all my jackets before I have to wear them,” Stiles commented. “This is like it’s just out of the dryer,” he smiled as he closed his eyes, relishing in the amount of Derek’s body heat the jacket manage to capture. “Smells better than laundry though,” he added with a small smirk as he looked at Derek.

“I’m glad I smell better than laundry detergent,” Derek deadpanned.

“I’m going to smell like you,” Stiles commented. The severity of the stated hit them both at the same time. They cautiously looked at each other, uncertain what the other was thinking, both speaking at the same time.

“I can take it off if you want.” “You can take it off if you want.”

Stiles blinked at Derek, processing what he heard. “Do you mind if I … if I end up smelling like you?”

Derek didn’t have to think about it. “No. I’d actually … like it,” he softly explained.

Stiles smiled as he ducked his chin. “Can I start wearing your jacket then?”

Derek quietly nodded, not trusting his voice as he thought about Stiles wearing his jacket. And because Derek’s brain hated him, his thoughts suddenly shifted to Stiles wearing _only_ his jacket.

“You’re such a gooey softie,” Stiles fondly stated, his hand slipping into Derek’s. “I love it,” he added, turning his head back to watch the movie.

About twenty minutes passed in silence, their fingers still tangled together against the shifter, before Derek finally asked Stiles what was wrong.

“Nothing,” Stiles answered, trying to sound truthful.

“You’re lying,” Derek replied as he looked at him.

Stiles sighed. “Couple at our two o’clock,” he finally admitted.

Derek looked at the car diagonally in front of them. The windows were fogged up, making it hard to see inside. The silhouette of two people obviously making out was the only thing visible.

“I didn’t think you’d be one to be annoyed by PDA,” Derek commented.

“Annoyed when I can’t participate in PDA,” Stiles mumbled without realizing what he was saying.

“Stiles, if you want to kiss me, all you have to do is say so,” Derek amusingly stated, glancing back at Stiles.

Stiles’ eyes were wide, staring at Derek in untold surprise and anxious want. “Really?” He finally asked.

Derek released a small chuckle, arching his eyebrows at Stiles as a direct invitation for him to make a move.

Stiles practically scrambled into an upright position, his hand falling from Derek’s, leaning towards the middle of the car. He paused looking down at Derek’s lips. “Are you … are you sure? Aren’t first kisses supposed to be spontaneous?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I think everything else in our life is spontaneous enough to make up for this being planned.”

Stiles smiled, leaning in close to Derek with the intent of pressing their lips together. He hesitated a few centimeters from Derek’s mouth, his heart pounding wildly as he mentally prepared for his lips to be against Derek’s. He let out a noise of surprise when Derek pushed forward the rest of the way, pressing into the welcoming warmth of Stiles’ lips.

The kiss was soft, bordering on one of the gentlest actions Stiles has ever participated in. It was everything Stiles knew Derek was but tended to hide away—gentle, patient, generous, loving. He reached a hand forward, fingertips brushing Derek’s beard as his open palm moved to cup Derek’s cheek.

Stiles released a pained noise, causing Derek to pull back in concern. And Stiles hated that he looked so worried, all because the shifter decided to stab him in the abdomen.

“The shifter’s in the way,” Stiles stated, as he pulled back from Derek with a slight grimace. He looked down at the shifter as if it was the bane of his existence—as if it had personally insulted him.

“Probably for the best,” Derek answered as he too glanced down at the shifter.

“Don’t tell me you want to go super slow in order to protect my honor,” Stiles replied back. “Because I will toss my honor out the window if you’re going to hold yourself back from me.” His smile fell as a thought wormed its way into his head. “Oh God, unless it’s something you need to do. Because we can totally do that—whatever makes you comfortable. I’m here, though. You don’t have to worry about rushing me. I am 100% down with you kissing and touching me. All over,” he furiously gestured to his entire body.

Derek leaned in again, capturing Stiles lips as he pushed up to lean over the shifter. He moved his hand to the back of Stiles’ neck, his fingers tangling with his hair as a response to the soft moans coming from Stiles’ throat. He opened his mouth to welcome Stiles’ tongue as it swept across his lips.

“Stupid shifter,” Stiles partially breathed between kisses as he clung to Derek’s shirt.

They made out for the rest of both films, Stiles jumping in response to leaning too far over Derek and allowing his elbow to hit the horn—garnering looks from neighboring vehicles.

Derek felt as if he was a teenager again, making out while on a date without a care in the world. His heart was fluttering fast, a feeling he never thought he’d have again, as he focused all his senses on Stiles. He discovered that Stiles had a biting kink, something Derek _greatly_ approved of. He knew he shouldn’t leave too many hickeys, knowing that the Sheriff would know they were from him, but the wolf in Derek made him want to mark Stiles—his intentions towards Stiles marking him as off limits. He loved the way Stiles’ breath hitched in aroused anticipation whenever Derek’s teeth nipped just under his jaw.

The shifter served its purpose of holding them back from leaping too far ahead, keeping their legs and hips from coming into contact with each other. Stiles had whined when Derek told him that they had to leave, the movie being over for almost ten minutes. He opted for holding Derek’s hand the whole ride home.

“So,” Stiles started as they stood on the Stilinski porch, both of them grateful that the Sheriff was staying inside to allow them some privacy. His neck already had the remnants of small nips and bruising from Derek’s mouth, causing a shiver to run down his spine as he absentmindedly rubbed one of them. “This isn’t a one time thing, right?”

Derek was surprised, thinking that he made his intentions rather clear from the beginning. He nodded, reaching his hands out to grab the lapels of his jacket still wrapped around Stiles. He pulled Stiles close as he straightened the lapels, an action immensely identical to the one Derek had done all those years ago when he pinned Stiles up against the door.

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” Derek stated, holding Stiles’ body flat against his.

Stiles let the shiver of arousal freely run through him as his hands clutched at Derek’s belt loops for something to hold onto, pulling Derek’s hips flush against his. He enjoyed the way Derek’s breath was hot and shallow against his lips, his pupils fully blown—the faintest flicker of blue as Derek struggled with his wolf—as he stared down at Stiles. Stiles had done that—he made Derek Hale look like a lovesick puppy, and it made him never want to let him go.

“My house, my rules, huh?” Stiles answered, smiling up at Derek.

“Something like that,” Derek replied, leaning in to capture Stiles’ lips in a goodnight kiss. If it was possible, this kiss was even softer, filled with a promise of being a constant presence; a promise of a future, one that they were always meant to have.

Stiles learned that Derek’s specialty was soft kisses. Derek managed to kiss Stiles many, many more times, but he saved the softest of kisses for special occasions.

Their first date.

Their first time making love.

Their anniversaries.

Their first time confessing their love.

Their engagement kiss.

Their wedding kiss.

Their first kiss as parents.

Stiles never wanted them to end, but he knew the last kiss he’d ever have would be Derek’s softest. And he was more than okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me on tumblr:
> 
> [drunklightning](http://drunklightning.tumblr.com) is my blog where I reblog anything I find of interest.
> 
> [dexterous-sinistrous](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com) is suited towards my ramblings about my writing, and NSFW. (It's where I serenade myself about Sterek). It's my trashcan of emotions. Feel free to stop by and say hi, criticize me, make incoherent noises with me, whatevs.
> 
> [Send](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/ask) me any prompts you think you'd like to have me write!


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